Electricity bill
I’m writing this by candlelight, irate.
I was checking my emails this morning when an unsuspecting arrow flew out of the screen and struck me in the chest. Dazed, I looked down and examined the arrow to find a label that said electricity bill along with a price tag that said $701.36. What… that can’t be right… can it? What’s going on? Before I bled out and died from the hefty, unexpected hit to the gut, I confirmed that a) I did indeed owe the electricity company $700 and b) sadly, the cost was just for December; the January charge is trending higher. To power my dimly lit, poorly heated, seven hundred square-foot apartment, the power company is charging me $701.36.
After reading the unfortunate news, I sprinted to the toaster and unplugged it; then, I sprinted to all the other wall cords and unplugged those, followed by turning off the heat. Since it was early in the morning, I completed my morning routine before dealing with the problem. Showering (in the dark). Getting dressed (an extra sweatshirt and a coat). Eating breakfast (I’m being told my sources that “bread” is the raw version of toast). In addition to the raw toast, I stress ate five cuties. Six cuties. Seven cuties.
Sometimes it’s hard to focus at work when you’ve got after-work stuff to deal with. Surprisingly, this wasn’t the case today. Not sure why I’m mentioning this - not so much in tone with the story - but, today was a really good work day. Twas a positive distraction to a difficult, adulting dilemma. I added value to my choice projects and increased in responsibility for my other favorite projects. Other than being surprised by a monstrous bill, today was a good day.
Ok, work ended. Time to pull off the work gloves and dig into the at-home problem - what the hell happened here. It couldn’t have been the heat; my girlfriend always complaining she’s cold, I rarely splurge for heat (I’m pretty frugal like that). It couldn’t have been the lights; I don’t sleep with the lights on and lights should be cheap anyways. It couldn't have been the Bit-Coin mining machines, because I don’t own any. That left the water heater… the damn water heater.
About a month ago, my bathtub faucet started leaking. It started as an annoying background drip and eventually transitioned into an accepted background sound. At its worst, it leaked at a rate of one gallon every 90 seconds. Don’t do the math. Not sure if this is commonplace but, I don’t have a water bill. (Tragedy of the commons aside), the leak wouldn't have been a problem except for the fact that it was leaking hot water - maximal hot. So, my hot water heater, which was installed in 1999, was constantly running.
I submitted a maintenance request then another one when the apartment company didn’t get back to me soon. The leak was fixed about a week ago, but the water heater is still here. I’m staring at the water heater now and frowning, an angry frown with scrunched eyebrows.
In response to my first cumbersome adulting problem, my first inclination was to write about it. But given that venting hasn’t accomplished anything, I think I need to stop this and actually deal with the problem. Time to channel my inner Karen and write some strongly worded letters / make some outraged phone calls.
